


Pack it Up

by 27dragons, tisfan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Office, Conventions, Cosplay, Dating, Light BDSM, Lingerie, M/M, Nerds in Love, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, under-negotiated relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Following their accidental but extremely sexy meeting, Tony keeps engineering encounters with Bucky. Bucky is fine with that -- they continue to be extremely sexy encounters -- but he's struggling to remind himself that it's just a booty call, that Tony doesn't actually have any romantic interest...Until Bucky realizes that maybe he does.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 52
Kudos: 486





	Pack it Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [monobuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monobuu/gifts).



> This is a sequel to [ Excuse Me, I think You Have My Suitcase](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17706326). You don't _have_ to have read the first part to figure out what's going on here, but it might help with context, a bit.

Bucky was up to his eyeballs in the licensing agreement, formulating yet another ridiculously convoluted EULA that no one would read, didn’t stand up in court (which was good, because Hammer gave himself all sorts of rights if you installed his fucking software) and was morally questionable besides.

His cell phone rang twice, and he didn’t recognize the number, pushing the call to voice mail. He had work to do; legal was already breathing down his neck.

A moment after that his office phone rang.

He sighed and picked it up. If it was his sister, he was going to throttle her. Okay, probably not, but he was going to hang up on her.

“Barnes, go,” he said.

“Afternoon, James,” purred a soft, low voice that instantly sent a trail of shivers down Bucky’s spine. “How’s your day going?”

For a moment, Bucky’s throat went too dry to speak and he just sat there like an idiot, mouth open. “Oh!” he squeaked, then coughed and tried again, lowering his voice to sound more… manly maybe, and less like a schoolboy with a crush. “Tony! Much better now, thanks.”

“Yeah? Your evening might be better still. You’re going to get a courier package in a little bit. You probably do not want to open it at work. I’d apologize for sending it to your office at all, but that’s the only address on your business card.”

Bucky could feel his neck heating. He’d only met Tony Stark a few weeks ago at a tech conference. They’d had a four day, rather heated affair and then parted ways. Bucky hadn’t been sure Tony would, in fact, _want_ to keep in touch, and he didn’t feel confident in himself enough to make a first move. 

“Oh, uh… oh!” Bucky said. God, he couldn’t probably manage to sound more like an idiot if he was trying out for the village role. “You, uh, didn’t have to do that.” His brain went off in two different directions; both of which would require way too much explanation if anyone knew. Tony had sent him something romantic but harmless, like flowers, in which case people were going to want to know why. Or, he supposed, Tony might have sent him a more… personal gift. And then there were going to be a _lot_ more questions.

“I know,” Tony said. “Takes all the fun out of sending someone a present if you _have_ to do it.”

“On a scale of the mail department is going to make a few jokes at my expense to my boss is going to go nuclear, where is this rating on the keep it on the downlow?”

Technically, Justin Hammer wasn’t his direct boss, but Bucky had no doubt whatsoever that if Hammer thought Bucky actually knew, had spoken with, perhaps even _touched_ Tony Stark… well, that would be some kind of trouble.

Bucky wasn’t sure what kind, exactly.

He didn’t want to find out.

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s _Hammer_. He’s a couple of protons short of a nucleus on a good day. Mail department going to x-ray a couriered box, or just check the courier’s bonafides?”

“I’m in tech specs and documenting,” Bucky pointed out. “Pretty sure the mail room wants us to get blown up. They won’t xray it.”

“Then you should be fine. Very discreet packaging, looks like it could be spec sheets and tolerance reports. Just don’t open it until you’re home. Or at least alone, somewhere without cameras.”

“Tell me your name is _not_ on the outside of the box, and we’ll be grand,” Bucky said. “Hammer would never forgive me.” Because, of course, there was no way in hell that Bucky was going to tell Justin - I _wish_ I were as cool as Tony Stark - Hammer that Bucky had spend four days getting rather thoroughly dicked down by Tony Stark. 

Tony chuckled, low and seductive in Bucky’s ear. “No; it’s coming directly from the store. Nothing on the outside but your name and address.” His voice got a little quieter. “Wouldn’t mind if you wanted to give me a call when you opened it so I could get your reactions.”

“Yeah, that-- you got a video chat set up where you are?” Bucky had one both in his office and in his home office.

“Of course.”

“That was a dumb question, right?” Bucky asked, all but slapping himself in the forehead. “So, yeah. Okay. Um. I’ve got your number-- do I?” He read the number off the phone display, but the office sometimes routed his calls around, so-- 

“Yeah, that’ll do. If I’m in one of those meetings where my PA has my phone, just, uh, tell her your name and ask her to pass it on, priority two. She won’t dump you in the circular file.”

Bucky wrote the number down on a sticky note. “Okay. I… uh, yeah, can’t wait to talk to you later.”

“That makes two of us,” Tony said. “How many people can see you, right now, without you standing up?”

“My office door is open a little; but my officemate took a long lunch. He won’t be back… probably at all, honestly.”

Tony hummed. “Stay on the line, then,” he suggested. “Maybe we can get you in the proper frame of mind for your present.”

“Oh, you’re a bad, bad man,” Bucky said, letting his voice drop into a throaty purr. Just thinking about Tony-- “not like I ain’t been thinking about it anyway. If I gotta be honest.” Tony had moved front and center to his jerk off fantasies; he practically slept with those lacy things under his pillow. Even if they no longer smelled like Tony at all.

“Very bad,” Tony agreed, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Want to tell me what you’ve been thinking about?”

Bucky’s brain almost whited out completely. “Uh, I especially been thinkin’ about the time I put you up on that desk in my hotel room, and you were using the wall to push back on me. You were wearing those red sock suspenders and that-- what was it called? That lacy little undershirt?”

“Camisole,” Tony said. “I liked the way it felt when you sucked on my nipples through it. Soft and wet and just a _little_ bit rough. You like me in red, hm?”

“Yeah, the red really goes well with your skin, I… it’s weird, right, but I feel… I feel strong, an’ special, when you’re all dolled up, lookin’ at me the way you did. Like you want to eat me right up. It’s… damn, it’s all but better than the sex.”

That wicked chuckle in his ear again. “Not weird at all, honey. But I have to say, the sex it pretty damned good. Love it when you’re filling me up, stretching me wide open, making me take every gorgeous inch.”

“Oh _jesus_ ,” Bucky murmured, sinking down in his chair. He was already hard, cock straining behind his work slacks. “Want to split you right down the middle, bend you over a chair and get my hands on that gorgeous ass of yours. Maybe something white, all pretend innocence, with a slice of wicked underneath.”

“Oh, I’ve got just the thing for that,” Tony promised. “White silk teddy, fluttery and soft and loose, but there’s a pretty red bow right at the base of the spine, tying the laces. Wouldn’t see it until you turned me over.”

Bucky made an incoherent little noise that sounded like _hnnnnnng_ and rubbed himself through his trousers, wondering if he were brave enough to actually stroke it at work. Probably shouldn’t, but-- “Damn, you are…” perfect, beautiful, amazing, sexy… “you’re something else, Tony.”

“Good,” Tony said. “Wouldn’t want to be like anyone else. You feeling good for me, sweetheart? All wound up tight?”

“I get any tighter, an’ I’m gonna have to hit the men’s room all the way on the west side of the building,” Bucky complained, but not really. No one ever went there. The call center had been there, before the whole thing had been outsourced. Now it was just an empty cubical hive, the bathrooms unused.

“Oh, no, don’t do that,” Tony said, and Bucky could _hear_ that smirk. “Keep it all for me. Later, okay? Will you do that?”

That sent another, deeper, shudder, through Bucky’s spine, and everything south of his navel clenched up with anticipation. “Swear, you have a hotline to my libido,” he said, breathless and bothered. “But yeah, yeah, I’ll. Yeah, I’ll do that for you.”

“Good. I’ve got something I’m holding here for you, too.” Surely, it had to be Bucky’s imagination that he was hearing the soft sound of skin on skin.

“I’ll, you know, take it off your hands any time you want,” Bucky said. 

“I’m glad to hear it. So how’s your afternoon looking, now?”

“Remarkably unproductive,” Bucky said, managing a strangled laugh. “S’that what this is, corporate sabotage?” He was pretty sure it wasn’t-- although he couldn’t have put his finger on why. Just he didn’t think Tony would use him like that. He might use Bucky in other ways-- _hnnnng_ , Jesus, he was rock hard and there was a wet, sticky patch on the front of his drawers. Plain boxers, because he hadn’t _dared_ \-- 

Tony snorted indelicately. “Hammer is his own sabotage,” he said. “I don’t have to work for that. No, this is just about you and me, and how I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d look like in some pretty things.”

“You an’ me,” Bucky repeated. “Yeah, that’s… that’s _real_ good, doll.” He saw movement out in front of the office block. “Uh, that package is here, I think. I’ll… I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Looking forward to it. Have a nice afternoon, honey. Think of me.”

“Like I can think of anything else,” Bucky growled. “ _Menace_.” And he hung up.

He had to sign for the package, and the delivery guy glared when Bucky waved him over. He thought he did an okay job of pretending he was very involved in editing the EULA and not that he was wanting to not stand up with an erection like he was 14 and in high school math class. That was one sexy bit of algebra, back in the day.

The package wasn’t very big; but it wouldn’t have to be, would it? It was almost a shame that it had come directly from the store, and nothing Tony had ever actually held in his hands.

 _Well, maybe he can hold it later_ , Bucky thought. _And everything that comes in it._

***

Tony stared just past Hammer’s ear and pretended to listen to anything the man had to say. The little man-crush was frankly embarrassing, and Hammer’s attempts at impressing Tony with his technical expertise were even moreso.

He was only here because Hammer’s research team _swore_ that the Stark fuel cells were giving off a subtle vibration that was causing their own delicate instruments to become misaligned, and Tony wasn’t having it. He had every intention of swanning into Hammer’s R&D lab, fixing the issue in fifteen minutes or less, and then striding right back out. That is, once Hammer _shut up_ and took Tony to the lab.

And maybe, just _maybe_ , while he was here anyway, he could find James.

They’d had a _very_ pleasant evening a few nights ago, as James unboxed the soft and sheer delicacies Tony’d sent. James had tried on each of them so that Tony could see how they looked on him -- and then they’d talked their way through some fun, so Tony could see how they looked when he was rumpled and sated.

Still, sex over Skype was barely one step removed from watching porn and jerking off. It was fun, but it lacked a sense of intimacy, of closeness. Tony’s hands had itched to touch the silk and satin pulled taut over James’ skin, to slide up underneath the hemline that only barely hid James’ ass.

Maybe, if he was careful, he could slip James out of the building for a long lunch, with no one else being the wiser.

“Wha--” Tony started, and then his brain caught up with what his ears had barely been listening to, which was Hammer dangling a dinner invitation, something something cozy and-- ug. Was Tony being asked out on a _date_?

“Yeah, I’m going to stop you right there,” Tony said, patting Hammer on the arm. Ug. He’d need some hand sanitizer at the first available opportunity. “You’re just not my type. Let’s just stick to the technical details, shall we?”

“He’s a kidder,” Hammer said, addressing the two lab techs who were with them. “We kid, that’s our thing. Well, I’ll just leave you in their capable hands, and--” Hammer made his escape, trying to save face, Tony supposed.

“Mr. Stark,” one of the lab techs said, “if you’d care to follow us, we can get this sorted right out, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony said. “Lead the way. I’ve got lunch plans I’m hoping to keep.”

Well, at least Hammer had someone competent designing the labs. Aside from the multiple portraits of the company founder leering at Tony from every possible angle -- okay, it was only four, but it still seemed excessive -- the lab was well laid out, with extra marks for safety features. Which might have been because Hammer was prone to blowing things up with even more regularity than Tony. 

“Here,” the tech said, opening the panel for Hammer’s high tech excavator. “The plan is to use the laser targeting systems to bounce an image back, let us know if we’re about to bulldoze valuable historical finds, or raw materials. You can be in and out of a dig site in under two days, having run a complete survey on the area without disturbing much more than a few earthworms.”

“Uh-huh. Where is the fuel cell that’s supposedly causing problems, then?” He leaned in to peer into the excavator’s innards. “Okay, well, right off the bat I can see you’re going to have problems because you’ve got the laser too close to the cell. What’s the wavelength on these lasers? Precise specs, here.”

It took him about five minutes to identify the issue, and another ten to trace it back to the source -- Hammer’s penny-pinching had dictated a redesign of the original planned engine that ignored all the operational specs for the fuel cell, the laser array, and several other components as well. He jotted it all down for them -- ug, paper -- and clapped his hands together. “Are we done here? We feel done. You guys can take it from here. I’ll just show myself out, right?”

“I told him,” one of the techs muttered, scowling at the paper. “I did, it’s-- yeah, thanks. We’ll get right on this.”

“Keep up the good work, guys,” he added as he headed for the door, because knowing Hammer, these guys never actually heard any kind of praise. He tossed off a lazy, two-fingered salute, and let himself back out into the main corridor.

“Now, if I were a documentation department, where would I be?” he murmured. Luckily, there was a building directory near the elevator bank. Tony consulted it, then decided to take the stairs so he wouldn’t accidentally encounter anyone like, say, Hammer.

The indicated floor, where James B. Barnes and Brock H. Rumlow had office 305, was a cubical hive with a ring of offices on the outside, and a media center in the middle of the hive. Only about a third of the cubicles seemed currently occupied, and most of the office doors were closed. 305, on the corner, had the door open a few inches.

Tony listened for a moment, but didn’t hear any voices, either James’ or the other guy’s. He did hear the soft click of a keyboard and the occasional _tiktiktik_ of someone scrolling a mousewheel, so someone was in there, anyway. He tapped on the door lightly, pushing it open another few inches. “Anyone home?”

“Ug, I swear, I don’t actually live her-- _Tony_?”

James pushed back from his desk, trying to stand up at the same time, and his chair shot backward, hitting the wall. 

Tony glanced around the office, but the other guy -- Rummy or Barlow or something like that -- didn’t seem to be in the room, so Tony let his mouth pull into a smirk. “Working hard?”

“I’d say I’m workin’ smarter, but there’s nothing smart about this-- what are you doing here?” James asked, coming around his desk. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, because I am. Does _he_ know you’re here?”

“Well, he knows I’m in the building,” Tony said. “I sent him back to his comfy executive suite with his tail between his legs, so I’m reasonably certain he doesn’t know exactly where in it I am.” He nodded toward the other desk, set opposite James’. “Your officemate coming back soon?”

James scoffed. “It’s not quite lunch, so he left already. He might drag himself back around five, so that Hammer can watch him leave after hours. All play and no work, our boy Brock.”

Tony grinned toothily. “Well, that’s convenient for us, then.” He let his gaze drop, deliberately, and then took his time as he pulled his eyes back up, mentally undressing James. “Wearing anything nice under there?”

James cocked his hip, leaning against his desk with a grin. “Can you tell?”

A pleased flush of warmth raced to the tips of Tony’s limbs. “No, of course not. I might have to put my hands on, see what I can figure out.” He nudged the door closed and took the few steps that put him right in James’ space.

“Yeah? _Feel_ free,” he said. “Been wanting your hands on me since Tuesday. What are you even doing here, not that I’m objecting.”

“Technical consultation. All done, your boss is an idiot, but we knew this already.” Tony curved his hands over Bucky’s hips, sliding down and then up, feeling for the tell-tale slip of satin or the quiet roughness of lace.

“Thought I’d try something-- well, new.” James flushed. “There’s a Leather and Lace just down the road from my apartment. Picked up a few other things, but this one-- felt darin’.”

“You’re wearing something I haven’t even _seen_ before? Well, now you _have_ to show me.” Tony nudged James back behind the desk, then dropped to one knee to work at his belt. The buckle fell open and Tony glanced up, one hand at the placket of James’ pants. “Yes?”

“Yeah, go on,” James told him, looking down at Tony through half-slitted eyes, lip shiny where he’d just licked it. “You are so damn gorgeous down there.”

“The view from here is pretty good, too.” Tony tugged the pants open, carefully pulled down the zipper, and then sat back on his heels to see what _daring_ thing James had picked out as he eased them down a little. Satin was the first thing he saw, and little bits of lace. It was cut to cradle a man’s package, but slender around the hips, just a little flirty ruffle offering the faintest suggestion of a skirt. “Wow.”

“You like it? I thought it looked, sort of French-maid-y.”

“A little,” Tony agreed. “Are we dipping a toe into roleplay now?” He leaned in to rub his cheek against that slick fabric. “Does it feel nice?”

“It does,” James admitted. “Once I got over the-- I don’t know. Like, feeling like people could _tell_. Which, you know, sort of a thrill, and a little embarrassing at the same time. I-- yeah. I like it.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Tony traced the lines of it with his fingers, feeling the smoothness of it, the cool cloth a sharp contrast to the heat underneath. He glanced up at James again and then mouthed at James’ cock through the panties, a tease and a promise.

“Oh, you’re… so, so bad,” James said, threading his fingers through Tony’s hair, thumb brushing under Tony’s ear. 

“Diabolical,” Tony agreed. He nudged James a little further back toward the chair. “Have a seat,” he suggested. “Anyone comes in, I’ll just be here under your desk. Being very quiet. Finding ways to amuse myself.”

“I-- wow, okay, I always wondered what it would take t’ get fired around here,” James said. “Help yourself. At least it’s clean under my desk.”

Tony chuckled. “You’re not going to get fired,” he said. He slid under the desk, double-checked the height (nothing to spoil the fun of an illicit blowjob like smacking your head really hard) and went back to nuzzling into James’ crotch, breathing in the musky heat and spreading little licks and nips up the inside of James’ thighs.

“No, even worse,” James said, hooking his foot around the leg of the desk to keep from sliding backward. “I won’t get fired. He’ll want me to tell him about it.” James leaned back, linking his arms under his neck, staring at the ceiling like he was deep in thought. “Don’t stop, though. Ain’t a complaint, not at _all_.”

Tony didn’t need to be told twice. He peeled back the satin to flick at the head of James’ cock with his tongue, lapping up the salt-bitter taste of precome and teasing around the rim.

James breathed, harsh panting breaths. He kicked one loafer off and traced his toes up Tony’s thigh. “Yeah, that’s… that’s nice, doll.”

“Shh,” Tony admonished. “Don’t want anyone to hear you, do you?” He wrapped his lips around that thick shaft and sucked it deeper, letting it slide against the roof of his mouth, the top of his throat.

James pulled himself closer to the desk, then tapped at his computer. Tony pretty well doubted the man could concentrate on _work_ but at least it might look less suspicious. “Ain’t like I don’t swear enough, at this job,” he muttered, then the muscles in his thighs squeezed and he exhaled a little harder.

Tony hummed a little, just enough to make James hiss at the vibration, and went back to work. In and out, up and down (carefully). The lace of the panties brushed at his cheek every time he drew close enough, a reminder. James hadn’t been expecting to see him today, hadn’t put these on with the intention of showing them to Tony... 

And yet he’d still done it _because_ of Tony. That was its own kind of power.

“I am gonna be so damn disappointed if I wake up in ten minutes, late for work,” James said, and he tapped a few keys. 

Tony chuckled a little around his mouthful, but in order to answer, he’d have to let go, and-- Yeah, that wasn’t happening, not when he’d been fantasizing about this for days, _weeks_ even. He slid his hands up James’ thighs, dug his fingers into those lush hips.

James shivered, pushing into Tony’s mouth, his ass rising out of the chair just a bit, then--

Someone knocked on the door and then pushed it open. “Hey, Bucky, you got a minute?”

“Darcy,” James squeaked. “Uh, yeah, I’m-- what do you need?”

Tony went still, not dropping James’s cock but not sucking and licking, either. Just... waiting. On pause. Teasing aside, pushing James too far while they had an audience would be a dick move on Tony’s part. Heh, _dick_ move.

“So, I got that file you asked for--” Tony could see the woman’s reflection in the window behind James’ head, nerd-chic with thick glasses and a messy hairdo. “And to let you know the three o’clock’s been cancelled, rescheduled for tomorrow.”

“Is that your way of telling me I can cut out early today?” James wondered. “Yeah, thanks Darce, leave that on the desk, please, I’ll look over it as soon as I’m done here.”

Tony watched the reflection, willing the woman to go.

“Hey, you want to slip out early, I’m not going to rat you out,” Darcy said. “Just show up early tomorrow and get the coffee ready, and I’ll even cover for you.”

“Deal,” James said. “I’ll just wrap up this document--”

“See you tomorrow.”

Just as she reached the door, Tony slid his tongue up James’ length, just to be a _little_ mean.

James sucked a breath and drove his fingers into his hair, raking it up in the front. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll-- coffee. Tomorrow. Got it.”

At last, the door closed again. Tony chuckled a little at James’ sigh of relief, and pulled off long enough to ask, “ _Bucky?_ ”

“What?” James responded, looking down in confusion.

“She called you Bucky,” Tony pointed out. “I feel there’s a story there, and I’m going to want to hear it, later.”

“Oh, yeah,” James said, and he bit his bottom lip, rocking his hips just a little, like his body was saying _hey, aren’t you forgetting something_ without James’ express permission. “It’s a nickname. Darcy used to date my best friend.”

Tony was pretty sure there was still some kind of story there, because why else would a grown man let people call him _Bucky_ , but right now he had more important things to do. He licked his lips and sucked James down again, pulling out all the stops this time.

James’s fingers clutched at the edge of his desk, white knuckled. He made a soft, obscene, _needy_ little sound. “Gonna--” he warned. “Real soon now.”

Tony squeezed James’ hip in acknowledgement and didn’t slow down at all. Pushing James over that edge was the whole _point_ , after all.

He made another one of those lush, lurid sounds and then stiffened, every muscle in his body seeming to clench up as he thrust once, upward into Tony’s throat. 

Tony relaxed his throat and let James spill into it, catching the flavor at the very back of his tongue, and then gently licked up the little that escaped, cleaning off James’ cock as best he could before tucking it back into those pretty little panties.

James practically went limp in his chair, all but sliding onto the floor with Tony. “Jesus,” he said, fervent. “You’re…. You’re a national treasure’s what you are.”

Tony laughed. “That may be the first time I’ve ever heard that in _this_ context.” He slid out from under the desk, making sure the door was still closed with a quick glance, and stood up, leaning against the desk as he brushed his fingers through his hair and straightened his clothes.

“You, uh, heard Darce,” James said. “If I want to play hookey, she’s gonna cover for me.” He looked up at Tony from his seat, deliciously satisfied and not quite all the way back to composed. 

“I did hear that,” Tony said. His erection was a delectable ache inside his clothes. “Give me fifteen-- no, ten minutes to clear the building before you pack up and leave. And then...” He looked James over, sated and heavy-lidded and entirely too beautiful for words. “Can I take you to lunch?”

James ran one hand lightly up Tony’s thigh. “Baby, you can take me anywhere you want. I’m starvin’.” The look in those stormy eyes suggested food wasn’t exactly what he was hungry _for_.

“Lunch,” Tony said, “and then back to my place.”

James sucked in a breath. “Oh… wow, okay, yeah. We can… we can do that.”

Tony hesitated, cocking his head as he studied James’ wide eyes. “Too much?”

“No, I-- just surprised,” James said. “A good surprise.”

“Okay.” Tony bent swiftly to brush a light kiss across James’ cheek. “Ten minutes,” he said. “Two blocks north and turn right. I’ll wait for you.”

“I… yeah, I’ll be right behind you,” James said. He licked his lips and then added, “Kiss me, before you go?”

Tony curled his hand around James’ neck, brushed his thumb over that sharp jawline. He wanted to sink his hands into James’ hair, but they both needed to walk out of the building looking unmolested if they intended to fly under Hammer’s radar, for the sake of James’ job. So he just lowered his mouth to James’, teasing at the seam of James’ lips until they opened and let Tony in for a proper taste.

James moaned soft into Tony’s mouth and then pulled back with a soft nuzzle. “Ten minutes,” he whispered like a promise.

***

Bucky closed up his computer and tucked it in his bag. Lunch and possibly more messing around with Tony Stark aside, he still needed to get his work done. But it could, in fact, be done peacefully at home, and still be ready for the next day. Darcy covered for him like a champ, giving him a negligent wave as he headed for the stairs, like nothing they were doing was the least bit remarkable.

On the other hand, Bucky had to check his phone when he exited the building because North and West were both directions on a compass, not how he thought about where things actually _were_.

Right, okay, that way was north. Would it have killed Tony to say up 3rd? Bucky shook his head and then entered the flow of pedestrian traffic. How he was supposed to know Tony’s car, either--

Ok, yeah, that was Tony’s car, which he knew even before Tony rolled down the window. 

Normal people did not drive Bugatti Chirons on a city street.

Tony was heedless of the snarl of traffic around him, and Bucky let himself in the passenger side. They both still smelled a little like sex, more noticable in the confines of the car. “Hey, you,” Bucky said, buckling his seatbelt.

“Hi there.” Tony flashed him a grin, and as soon as Bucky’s seatbelt clicked into place, the car jumped into the flow of traffic as if Tony were controlling it telepathically. “Are you hungry? You like Italian?”

“I’m starving,” Bucky replied. “Italian is great.” He squinted at Tony a moment. “Wasn’t-- aren’t _you_ like half Italian, I’m sure I read that somewhere. Is this the set up for a dirty joke, because if it is, yes, I’m all here for that, too.”

“I am half Italian,” Tony confirmed, “or maybe a little more; my dad’s heritage is... mixed. But I was, in fact, referring to food. For the moment, anyway. We can discuss dessert later.” He shot a quick leer at Bucky before darting into a tiny gap in the traffic, downshifting, and shooting forward again. “After Nonna’s.”

Bucky hummed, running his hand up Tony’s thigh, feeling the muscles under slacks and skin as he shifted gears and kept moving. “Sounds perfect.” Bucky put himself entirely in Tony’s capable hands, watching as he drove like someone possessed. Any other day, Bucky might have been grabbing the oh shit bar or slamming on air brakes, but Tony seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and not at all acting like the typical American driver who merely thought he was good.

He spun around a corner and down a narrow street, smoothly reversing into a curbside parking space with barely a glance at the other cars. “Come on,” he said. “Bring your appetite.” He slid out of his seat and unfolded, walking around the car toward Bucky. He gestured the direction, and they fell into step, side by side.

“Nonna’s isn’t the most _authentic_ Italian food in the city,” Tony explained, “but the adaptations are to incorporate local produce and livestock -- Italian in principle rather than trying to strictly adhere to recipes that don’t make sense, given the availability. And they closely follow the Italian Grandmother school of feeding people: As often and as much as possible.” 

“I’m not sure that’s not just a grandma thing,” Bucky said, letting Tony draw him into the restaurant that smelled like the God of Cheese regularly received sacrifices there. He tried not to crane his neck around to see if anyone noticed them; or, more exactly, noticed Tony, and by default, the man he was with. 

_He’s not with you,_ Bucky told himself. _He’s just… here. And so are you._ Which may or may not have been true. And eventually, he was going to have to ask. He just couldn’t figure out a way to ask if this was a date with Tony Stark, or just really good aftercare or something. 

A shockingly tall, heavyset woman bustled out of the kitchen and greeted Tony with kisses on both cheeks, chattering at him excitedly in what Bucky had to assume was Italian. Tony tried four or five times to respond, but she just ran right over him, tugging him toward a seat in a secluded corner of the tiny restaurant.

“Non-- Cara-- Nonna!” he finally managed. “This is James.”

The woman turned to look at Bucky, sizing him up like she intended for him to be the evening’s dinner special. “Too skinny,” she announced. “You must bring him often. We will feed him up.” She tipped her head. “No allergies?” she demanded.

“Only bee stings,” Bucky said. He looked down at himself; he was not _skinny_. Except maybe around his lower legs and knees because he had a bad habit of skipping leg day.

“No bees in the food,” Nonna assured him. “Sit. I will send food.” She pinched Tony’s cheek, then bustled back toward the kitchen. Tony watched her go with fond amusement.

“She’s not actually my grandmother,” he assured Bucky. “I don’t think she’s actually _anyone’s_ grandmother. But she likes to play the role.”

“She seems… nice,” Bucky said, eyeing Tony a little, sideways. “You-- uh, you come here a lot? With dates?” Okay, so he was sort of passive-aggressively poking around, trying to figure out if this was, in fact, a date.

Tony wobbled a hand uncertainly. “Not a lot. A lot of the people I date want to go to five-star restaurants where they can be _seen_ , not some hole in the wall, no-name place.” He glanced at Bucky. “You don’t really seem in it for the fame, though.”

Bucky scooted his chair a little closer to the table, so he could stretch his legs out and press one ankle against Tony’s. “I’m in it -- whatever this is -- because of _you_.”

Tony smiled at him, a sweet, genuine thing that only looked a little relieved. “Good to know I read it right.”

“So, when you’re not picking up guys with bad risk assessments at conferences, what do you-- you know, do. In your spare time. We all know the Tony Stark, CEO, but tell me about Tony Stark, the _guy_.”

Tony laughed. “Now you sound like an interviewer. Uh. Not very much to tell, really. I build things, all the time. Tinkering. I want to improve everything. Take it apart and find out how it works, then find ways to make it better.”

“I used to do that when I was a kid, only without the being able to put it back together again part,” Bucky confessed. “I thought Ma was going to kill me when she came home and discovered I’d taken the toaster apart trying to keep it from burning my bagel constantly.”

Tony chuckled. “Ah, a young engineer never forgets their first toaster. Did you ever figure it out?”

“Mostly,” Bucky said. “What I did learn was to write down everything I was doing while I was taking it apart, so I could put it back together. And thus-- I’m in documenting.”

“There are worse places to end up,” Tony said.

A server appeared with a bottle of wine and a pair of delicate-looking glasses. Tony nodded and waited for a half-full glass to be set in front of him. He didn’t bother with the usual drawn-out pretension of wine snobs; he gave it one quick sniff, then tipped back a swallow. “Very nice,” he approved. He raised an eyebrow at Bucky. “You drink red?”

“Depends on the red,” Bucky said. “But I spent most of my college years drinking box wine and Zima, so I’m in no position to judge, really. If it’s not too dry, I’m good.”

“I’ll have this,” Tony told the server. “No more than two glasses, please. Let him try it; he may prefer a white.”

The server obligingly poured half a glass for Bucky to try.

Bucky wasn’t a wine snob at all; he wouldn’t even have known what to do to pretend to admire the wine. He tipped the glass, mostly just to wet his tongue. It was sharp, but a little bit fruity and didn’t make him feel like he’d just swallowed alum powder. He did know, from a little reading, that heavy fat foods would make the red taste better. “This is fine,” he decided.

The server nodded and set the bottle on the table, and then disappeared again.

“What about you?” Tony wondered. “What do you do for fun?”

“Oh, you know,” Bucky said, because other adults (Bucky still wasn’t sure he counted as an adult -- other adults always seemed somehow rather _adultier_ ) didn’t really _get_ his hobbies. “Uh, I’m a bit of a nerd. I do some charity work with a group called Starfleet. We dress up in uniform as part of our thing, you know, but mostly it’s delivering toys and food to families in need. Stuff like that.” And ComiCons and other sci-fi conventions, and he collected comic books, and-- yeah, he waited for Tony to give him a dubious look.

Tony lit up, though. “Yeah? I’ve heard about those groups. Do you go to conventions, too? I’ve always wanted to go, but like, incognito, you know. _Tony Stark_ would absolutely get mobbed at one of those things.”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, you wouldn’t. Dress in a cheaper version of your clothes and get a really bad prop, and everyone will just think you’re an impersonator. I heard Toby McGuire went to one in his Spider-man outfit and people kept telling him he was doing a bad job.”

Tony grinned. “That’s not a half-bad idea. Oh god, I could find the original prototype of the first Starkphone. Wear an off-the-rack suit... What a great idea. I need to find out when the next one is around here so I can try it.”

“Not next week, but the weekend after that, there’s a smaller con over in Jersey,” Bucky offered. “I was going for the afternoon, because Steve McNiven is the comic artist guest of honor.”

“Not sure I know who that is,” Tony admitted. “I haven’t read comics since, oh hell, probably college.”

“He did work for the Old Man Logan run,” Bucky said. “But you know, most normal people don’t care. Sorry, I just get excited sometimes.” There were garlic breadsticks on the table, rich and warm and smelling of butter. Bucky shoved one into his mouth in an effort to make himself act normal. Well, normal for most people. Not normal for himself. Tony just made it super easy to _be_ himself.

“Don’t,” Tony said firmly. “Don’t be sorry for getting excited. Even if I don’t know what you’re talking about, you look so _happy_ \-- I don’t have to care about comic books to care that _you_ like them. Anyway, it’s less about not caring and more about not having enough free time to keep up with it.”

“No one has enough free time to keep up,” Bucky said. “But yeah, if you wanted to try… I can score an extra day pass. I’m pretty handy with a sewing machine too. One of my sets of monster maroons might fit you, if I hemmed them up.”

“That... sounds like fun, actually,” Tony said. “Don’t go making alterations until I check the calendar, but I’d definitely love to go.”

Bucky couldn’t stop grinning; the whole idea of _Tony Stark_ going to a nerd convention was just ludicrous, which was why it would probably work, at least for a while. “We’ll have fun, then,” Bucky said. “I’ll talk to Nat and see if I can get an extra gopher pass. That way, no one official will handle, you know, like your ID or anything.”

Tony wriggled in his seat a little like he was actually excited to be planning a day trip to a tiny local con in New Jersey. “It’s a date.”

The food arrived then, pasta with a creamy red sauce and some kind of breaded and fried meat on top, with so much cheese Bucky wondered if they were single-handedly supporting some upstate dairy.

Which gave him an excuse to continue to avoid the question; but it was sounding more and more like he was, in fact, dating Tony Stark.

And some time after the meal, and after potential post meal coitus, he was going to have to think about what that _meant_.

If anything.

Tony’s foot rubbed against Bucky’s ankle under the table; above the table, he was innocently asking Bucky about the dish, mouth curved in a teasing smirk.

Bucky took a bite, and then all thoughts of what Tony was up to, and what any of this meant (Could he sound any more like a 14 year old girl in his own head? No, no he could not.) vanished. “Oh, my god, that’s _amazing_ ,” he blurted.

“Right?” Tony looked as pleased as if he’d created the meal himself. “I don’t know how she does it.”

Bucky kept his attention mostly on his food; it was too good to neglect, but at the same time, he kicked one loafer off and was playing under the table with Tony’s calf, his ankle. Just enjoying the time they had together. 

God knew, it wouldn’t be like this for long. No matter what happened, Bucky assumed that something would have to change.

When he looked up, Tony had stopped eating, not even halfway done, and was watching Bucky with a quiet little smile.

“This is nice,” he said, when Bucky met his gaze. “Yeah?”

“You know, it really is,” Bucky said. “I-- yeah, it’s good.”

***

New Text from James: _What’s your waist and inseam?_

Tony had been to the tailor often enough to have most of his measurements memorized, so he sent the numbers back, and added, _What for? I thought you were just hemming a thing?_

James: _You have any particularly strong negative feelings about Han Solo?_

 _Han Solo is objectively cool_ , Tony returned. _Why?_

_Wanna cosplay him? I found an old Kenner brand blaster at a yard sale._

_Oh heck yes._ Tony suppressed an urge to giggle. He’d never had any of those old toys as a kid -- his father had never had any patience for childish things -- but he’d always _wanted_ them. _What about you? I know you’re taller than me, but you’re not tall enough for Chewbacca._

_Nope._

The little blinking dots went on for a while, then, _I keep thinking maroon is more my color. Maybe with a little gold._

Maroon? Which Star Wars character wore maroon and gold? One of the obscure aliens, maybe? Or maybe one of the rebel-- _Wait_. He didn’t mean... Did he? Tony’s pulse rate nearly doubled as he responded, _Please tell me you’re not just yanking my chain here..._

_Nope, but you might yank mine._

A moment passed, and then an image appeared, a few inches of Bucky’s thigh, a wide link gold chain laying across it, with a swatch of dark red fabric, and the very edge of loose, brown leather boots.

_O.M.G. So Han is walking around with a stiffie all the time, right? Asking for a friend._

_It’s good to be appreciated. See you in two days, room 503. Nat-fren says we can borrow her room, just not for sex. Also, gopher duty 9 - 10am. Set up sound in the conference room. Should be easy, right?_

Tony snorted. _I will make the sound system my bitch,_ he promised. Then, _If I pay for it can we get a room that we can have sex in?_

_Not at this hotel, or the five hotels within easy walking distance. You’ve never been to a con, have you?_

Tony rolled his eyes. _As previously established. I’ll figure something out. Or spontaneously combust shortly after lunch, one of the two._ He wasn’t even sure he was exaggerating that much, if he was going to be spending the day walking around looking at Bucky in a slave Leia costume.

The dots blinked a bit, and then _You want yellow Corellian bloodstripe, or the red one?_

He sent another picture, this one of a sewing machine and a pair of pants in the process of being hemmed.

Tony considered the picture. _I like red._ He paused, added, _I have some lingerie that matches that color almost exactly._

If he was going to walk around half-aroused all day, so was Bucky.

_Conspicuous Gallantry it is._

_Is that what the red means?_ Good lord, Bucky was an even bigger geek than Tony. That was... pretty awesome, actually. Tony grinned down at his phone.

Tony wasn’t quite sure where Thursday and Friday went, disappearing in a blur of meetings, paperwork, and several very nice hours down in R&D where he was mostly able to forget -- his boyfriend? Date? Lover? He wasn’t sure, they really had not DTR'd yet -- Bucky’s bad habit of texting little flirty things through the day. Which wasn’t really a bad habit at all, except that Tony kept getting caught up in the game.

Finally, though, it was Saturday morning, and Pepper was calling him every twenty minutes, because he’d told her to and Tony could absolutely not be trusted to get up early on a weekend of his own inclination.

Finally, he dragged himself out of bed, carefully dressed in the underthings he'd picked out, then threw on a pair of jeans over it, along with the nerdiest t-shirt he’d been able to find in his closet -- not that he’d spent an hour going through all his clothes and picking out the ones he thought Bucky might like best, like some kind of adolescent, nope, not at all. 

He had Happy drive him over to Jersey, because Bucky had assured him that finding parking at the hotel was going to be _entirely_ impossible, and made his way up to room 503.

He was not, alas, greeted by a nearly-naked Bucky. Instead, a short, stacked red-head looked up at him. “You must be Tony,” she said. She ushered him into the room with a wave of one hand. The beds had been shoved up against the walls, and the center of the room had a tabletop game set up, grid-maps and miniatures left in place.

“Take off your clothes,” she said, handing him a brown bag with handles. 

“You might think that’s the first time I’ve been greeted like that,” Tony said, “but you’d be wrong. Usually the other person is already undressed, though.” He set the bag on the bed and peered in it. Folded cloth. He pulled out -- yep, the Han costume.

He stripped off his shirt and pulled on the one Bucky had provided, and then the vest. Then he hooked his thumbs in the waist of his jeans and glanced over at the redhead -- Nat, he presumed -- expecting her to leave the room or at least turn her back or something.

She wasn’t exactly staring at him and smirking, but she wasn’t making any move to clear out. Instead, she was frowning at the configuration of the game board, as if considering her next move. “Pretend I am not here,” she said, waving one hand at him. “Bucky is in the bathroom putting his face on.”

“Pretend,” he muttered. “Right. Sure.” He considered the length of the shirt, then sighed, turned his back to her, and shucked his jeans, pulling the costume pants on as quickly as he could. They fit pretty decently for quick-and-dirty adjustment. Not that Tony’s tailor wouldn’t have a fit if he saw Tony wearing them, but whatever; this was a sci-fi convention, not a red carpet event.

“Here, belt,” Nat said, coming up behind him and circling his hips with something that looked like a scavenged seatbelt. “Holster, gun, around the thigh here.” She was dressing him with quick, efficient hands, as if she’d done this a hundred times. “Bucky, get out here, or I won’t have time to help you with the shoulders.”

Tony re-settled the belt so it hung rakishly off one hip, and wiggled his leg a little to test the tightness of the thigh holster, and almost missed the sound of the bathroom door opening.

Strangely enough, the first thing Tony noticed was that Bucky had done something with his hair that had to involve extensions or a wig, because he was positive that Bucky’s hair wasn’t that long. It knotted in a half-bun at the back of his head, with a loose braid that dangled down and was draped artistically over his shoulder.

From there, Tony’s gaze followed the line south.

Bucky had a thick, gold collar on, secured with a bolt and supporting a long, golden chain that hung down almost to his feet. The cups that formed Leia’s bra were reshaped and perched delicately on Bucky’s shoulders, like pauldrons.

No shirt, and the red loincloth was low enough that it showed off the vee of his hips, then cut up both sides to display long legs and both of his ass cheeks. Metal jewelry adorned his waist, wrist, and one upper arm.

“Hey scoundrel,” Bucky said.

“Uh, _wow_ ,” Tony managed. “You look. Amazing.”

“Turn around,” Natasha said, pulling out a brush and a jar of foundation. “Your tan line is showing. Tacky.” She was, in fact, putting _makeup_ on Bucky’s ass, and he wasn’t even complaining, just lifting the back of his loincloth to make room. 

Tony had worn makeup for interviews, for press announcements, for presentations. He’d darkened his skin, lightened the circles under his eyes, had a professional highlight his eyebrows, even put some concealer over burns and scars on his hands. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone having makeup applied to their ass before. “...Huh.”

“Nat used to be a Victoria's Secret angel,” Bucky said, waving at her like that was obvious. “They put makeup _everywhere_.”

“We cannot have people thinking we have pores, or moles. Or hair. Heavens.” Nat fluttered the brush and Bucky yelped.

“Careful, that tickles!”

Tony grinned and leaned back against the nearest patch of wall to watch. “I thought all those pesky human characteristics were photoshopped out,” he confessed.

“We give walkway performances,” Natasha said, and she dabbed Bucky’s skin one more time with the brush, smoothing away all evidence of a tan line, as if Bucky did all his sunbathing completely nude. She screwed the cap onto her concealer and then walked across the room, somehow ten times sexier, sensual and owning it. “Like that. Very boring. I have a better job now.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Tony flicked open the snap that held his blaster in the holster, re-snapped it. Nervous energy. Also, he was trying not to drool too obviously on Bucky.

“Porn,” she said, simply.

Bucky laughed. “Don’t let her fool you. She produces it, not stars in it. Doing female friendly, catering to the female gaze. You know… the stuff where the guy comes over and vacuums the carpet and plays with the cat before getting naked? It’s cute.”

“Enough. I have work to do, and so do you,” she said. “Media room. And have fun at the con.”

“Hope so,” Tony agreed. He opened the door, gestured for Bucky to lead the way. “Right, show me where this sound system is that needs my loving touch.”

Bucky swished, thighs rolling as he did so. With a flick, he tossed the gold chain back over his shoulder. “Yes, sir,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes.

Tony snorted. “I don’t think Leia ever said _sir_ in her entire life,” he teased. “Certainly not to _Han_.”

“George Lucas was a coward,” Bucky declared. 

Tony tipped his head and glanced at Bucky sidelong. “I’m not disagreeing, but what’s your thesis, here?”

“Mind you, I’m not saying bad things about Han,” Bucky said. “Love Han Solo. Used to want to be him for a while, and then when I hit my teenage years, I wanted to be _with_ him. But-- originally, Lucas had Luke and Leia planned out to be lovers tragically separated by the war… and then Han came in, and he was a fan favorite. So, Han gets the girl, but Han’s not, you know, the main character, cishet white blonde dude. So Lucas does this whole siblings thing to explain why Leia doesn’t end up with Luke. It’s cowardly. Not everyone gets a happy ending.” Bucky put a little extra wiggle in his walk. “But you might.”

“Yeah?” Tony lagged back a step to admire the way the fabric swished around Bucky’s thighs, never _quite_ completely revealing everything, but coming very damned close. “Just point me at whatever monster needs to be slain.” He touched the hilt of the blaster. “Blasted. Whatever.”

The monsters that needed to be slain, apparently, were all the _women_ at the convention. It took less than four minutes of walking into the main part of the hotel -- which was packed with nerds in costume, nerds in tee-shirts, nerds, everywhere -- before some girl came up and dimpled at them. “Can I get a picture?”

Tony had been asked for pictures before. He glanced at Bucky, eyebrows raised. When Bucky nodded, Tony pulled out his blaster and struck a pose.

The girl barely seemed to notice, handing Tony her phone and posing. _With Bucky._

Bucky looked almost as floored as Tony felt.

Tony’s mouth dropped for a second, but then he had to laugh at himself. _Arrogant much?_ He took a few steps back to frame the picture nicely, took a few shots in case someone blinked. “There you go.”

“Lucky,” the girl said, taking her phone back. “Thanks. You two should enter the costume contest.”

“It’s a _bedsheet_ ,” he protested, laughing.

“Like to put you in my sheets,” she said, and then whirled off. 

Bucky was almost as red as the costume. “That was… weird.”

By the time they got to the media room, it was almost commonplace. People squealed, took pictures, stopped them to talk. At least two people copped a feel on Bucky’s rather exposed backside. “Hey, cosplay does not equal consent,” Bucky snapped at the second one, who actually pinched, leaving a red mark.

Tony glared at the guy until he walked away. “Rude,” he said, but he couldn’t maintain his annoyance. The con was too amazing, everything he’d always imagined it would be, and more. “This is _wild_.”

“The halls can be a little crazy,” Bucky admitted. “Usually, they’re chasing after whatever girl dressed up as that Twilik chick. Here’s Media. Make with the magic. I’ll watch and admire.”

Watching and admiring was Bucky-speak, apparently, for lounging all over the low stage like he was a slave girl on Jabba’s divan, playing absently with the chain around his throat.

It was a good thing Tony was an actual genius, or he’d have completely flubbed the sound assembly, possibly electrocuting himself in the process, with all the glances he was sneaking at Bucky. As it was, it took him at least three times longer than it should have to get everything connected up correctly.

But finally, everything looked right. He flipped on the soundboard and waved at Bucky. “As long as you’re on the stage, help me do a soundcheck.” And if Bucky was the one checking the mikes’ levels, then Tony had an excuse to ogle.

“Right,” Bucky said, getting slowly to his feet, which seemed to involve just a little more bending over than Tony thought was strictly necessary. _Appreciated_ , but unnecessary. “This is the sound check. Czech one, Czech two. Check, check, cash and credit not accepted. Check please.”

The mikes all worked perfectly, though Tony had to adjust the gain on a couple of them to keep them from squealing.

Once he had everything set to his own satisfaction, he turned the soundboard back off and waved in the crew who were going to be manning it, and swaggered down the aisle to the front of the room. He held out a hand. “Need help getting down from there?”

“Only if you need help getting up,” Bucky teased, but slid his hand into Tony’s and let himself be assisted off the stage. “God, you’re gorgeous.” His eyes flitted around the room. The sign outside the door had said _Filk, Small Auditorium_ , with a concert schedule that didn’t start until three. “Want to back me into the corner and pretend we’re talking about power couplings?”

“God, yes,” Tony groaned. He glanced around the room. There was a little nook where a room divider fit into the wall; it wasn’t big, but it should hide them from casual passersby. He nudged Bucky toward it. “Watching you in that outfit is going to drive me _crazy_.”

“Watching you watching me is driving me crazy, so we’re a good pair,” Bucky said, walking backward and wrapping that chain of his around Tony’s waist, keeping him close. “Don’t know why everyone was taking pictures of me. Your ass looks amazing in these pants. Wearing anything cute under ‘em?”

“Why don’t you check?” Tony suggested. “See if there’s anything in there you like.”

Bucky got his thumb in under the seatbelt clip that held Tony’s trousers on. He let his knuckles graze along the firm length of Tony underneath while he worked the clip open. “Always somethin’ here I like,” Bucky confessed like he was saying a Hail Mary at church. Reverent. _Profound_. 

Tony couldn’t quite suppress a shiver at that intensity. “Yeah, well, I might’ve wrapped it up special for you today, in honor of the fun.” He’d teased the red silk set to match the stripe on the trousers, but Bucky had _seen_ that before. This was a new set, satin and velvet, soft, touchable fabrics in black with tiny glimpses of red threading through.

“Yeah?” Bucky dropped to one knee, looking up at Tony through those long lashes of his. “I like that idea.” He cupped Tony through his trousers, stroking over the fabric, pressure and friction. “Like the idea of you thinkin’ about me when you pick out your clothes. That you’re-- thinkin’ about me, when I ain’t even there.”

“Do you?” Tony brushed his fingers down the side of Bucky’s face. “Do you... is this... Are we dating?”

“I don’t know if you noticed,” Bucky said, that little soft smile of his lighting up his eyes, “but you are goin’ through a lot of trouble here for a quick fuck. I mean, if you don’t wanna-- you know, get into the nitty-gritty of it, we don’t gotta put a name on it.”

“No, dating is fine, that’s a perfectly good word. I just wanted to...” Tony waved a hand, trying to encompass everything going on in his head. “Dating is great.”

“ _You’re_ great,” Bucky said, and he tugged the fly open on Tony’s Corellian trousers. “Oh… oh, wow, look at that.” He slid one finger into the open vee and tested the material for softness. “Niiiice.”

“Feels nice,” Tony agreed, letting his head tip back against the wall. But he couldn’t _see_ Bucky like that, so he looked down again. He trailed a finger along the edge of that collar, tracing its path along Bucky’s throat. “How do you want it?” He glanced toward the corner that blocked them from the rest of the room. “Other than _fast_.”

Bucky let the chain slide down, then handed it to Tony, not far from his throat. “Little rough do it for you? I got a collar an’ a chain, seems a shame not to take advantage of it.”

Tony shuddered in reaction. “Yeah, that... That sounds good.” He twisted his wrist, wrapping the chain around his hand so he wouldn’t drop it, and tugged carefully, pulling Bucky in close. “Well, then, get to work.”

Bucky let his eyelids flutter, then tugged Tony’s pants down around his thighs, clearing some space to work. He arched his back for a moment, giving Tony a coy smile and tucked his hands behind his back. “Make me.”

Tony’s stomach clenched with wanting and pulled harder on the chain, tugging Bucky right up into his crotch. “Open wide.”

There were no teasing licks or soft nuzzles. Bucky opened his mouth, flattened his tongue out, and took Tony all the way down. He made a few soft, spluttering sounds before his breathing leveled out, vibrating up and down Tony’s cock.

Tony bit his lip to keep from groaning aloud. “Yeah, that’s right,” he purred. He loosened his grip on the chain, letting Bucky pull back a bit, and then yanked him back in, watching cautiously to make sure he wasn’t playing _too_ rough.

Bucky went with it, easy and willing. His tongue wriggled under Tony’s onslaught, the wet heat of his mouth animalistic, needy. It didn’t take long before Bucky’s chin was shiny with saliva, the sounds coming out of his mouth, muffled by Tony’s cock, were lurid. He kept his hands neatly at the small of his back, but Tony could see him clenching and unclenching his fists in time with Tony’s thrusts.

Tony watched avidly, letting the sight and sensations wash through him, pushing him toward climax. He didn’t try to fight it or hold back -- semi-public sex was risky at best and it wouldn’t do to stretch things out until they were caught. “That’s perfect, honey, that’s so good, you’re so good...”

Bucky rumbled, a soft, purring noise of satisfaction that sent shivers up Tony’s spine and down to the balls of his feet. He shifted just a little, tipping his chin one way, then the other, making a spiral slide over the head of Tony’s cock with his tongue.

“Oh fuck, that’s--” Bucky did it again and that was all it took to send Tony careening over the edge. He barely remembered to loosen his hold on the chain so Bucky wouldn’t be choked on his come, biting down hard on his lip to keep quiet.

Bucky spluttered again, then swallowed smoothly, lapping at Tony’s cock to catch the excess. “Yeah?” His voice was ragged, hoarse, and utterly _used_.

“Yes,” Tony panted. “That was _perfect_ , god. Give me like. Thirty seconds to catch my breath, and I’ll return the favor.”

“Take all the time you need,” Bucky said, wiping his chin a little self-consciously. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, an’ I got the best view in the house.”

“A little deflated at this point,” Tony said, but Bucky was smiling up at him, and it made Tony’s heart pound just a little harder. He took another few deep breaths and then leaned down to kiss Bucky, licking the taste of himself out of Bucky’s mouth. “Come up here and let me at you.”

“That’s a plan,” Bucky said, sliding upward, rubbing against Tony’s body as he stood. “You’re so incredible.” He rubbed his thumb over Tony’s lower lip. “Everythin’ I never knew I wanted.”

Tony tipped his head a little and smiled. “You... are a lot of things I _did_ know I wanted. And I’m looking forward to discovering the rest.” He kissed Bucky again, then slid down Bucky’s body, appreciating that beautiful, taut body before curling his hands around Bucky’s hips and nuzzling aside that draped loincloth.

Bucky rocked against him, almost involuntarily, that lithe body swaying gently. “Watch th’ clip there. The whole kit comes off in like two seconds, but it’s harder t’ put on.”

Tony looked for the clip and spotted it. “Ah, yeah, okay. So noted.” He shifted his hand on that side so it was close to the clip, to keep from accidentally unhooking it. A little careful shifting of the fabric revealed Bucky’s erection, thick and dark with need. “Mmm, nice.” Tony flicked his tongue against the tip of it, tasting that bitter tang of precome, then smiled up at Bucky wickedly and swallowed it down.

“ _Christ_ ,” Bucky hissed, already overstimulated. He panted for breath, thighs quivering, muscles jumping under Tony’s hand.

Tony pulled off. “Shh,” he warned, smirking, and dove back in before Bucky could respond. He took it deep, until it was pushing at the back of his throat, that thick cock stretching his mouth. He stroked it with his tongue, as much as he could, rubbing against the crown, teasing at the more sensitive skin there, and then let out a very soft, low hum, just enough to add a little vibration to the mix.

Bucky whined, rocking against Tony, pulling himself almost all the way back before those snake hips rolled again, pushing in. He couldn’t seem to look away, barely blinking as he stared down, watching. Getting off on _watching_ as much as he was the sensation. “You’re so sweet,” he said, breathless, one hand cupping Tony’s jaw, rubbing his thumb over the hinge of Tony’s lips, sending his skin tingling.

Tony tipped his head a little into the touch, which resulted in some interesting shifting in his mouth, and Bucky’s eyes got bigger. Tony did it again. He’d have been smiling smugly if his mouth could stretch any further.

“Oh, Christ, baby, yeah, yeah, okay--” Bucky babbled, his throat and chest going red and blotchy as he sucked air, held it. His whole body went stiff and shaking--

Tony squeezed at Bucky’s hips, digging in his fingers just a little, and relaxed his throat just in time as Bucky came, thick waves of come. He let it slide down, then pulled back just enough to lick Bucky clean.

Bucky made a low grunt and all but fell against the wall. “You-- damn, Tony, you--” He was laughing, just a little, punchy with endorphins. 

Tony grinned and carefully tucked Bucky away again, double-checking the clip to make sure it hadn’t shifted, and then stood up and leaned against the wall with one shoulder. “You’re keeping the outfit, right?” he asked.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Bucky said. “Come on, you scruffy-looking nerf herder. Let's find the men’s room an’ clean up a bit. And then I’ll show you the rest of the con.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Star Trek [monster maroons](http://wrathofdhan.com/images/SectionImages/Star-Trek-Maroon-uniform-Spock.jpg).
> 
> Bucky's [slave Leia](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/439804719856308744/) costume.


End file.
